Peace
by BashfulGnome
Summary: The warm glow of each other's company illuminated their night of quiet relaxation.


The turkey, pies, and pan-traditional potluck of holiday foods had been eaten, the bedding arrangements had been made for the guests sleeping over at the apartments, and all there was left to do was enjoy the night.

That losing bet Gene had made with Ralph regarding the penthouse still applied, but the wrecker had different plans. He'd allowed the adopted 8-bits to hang out up there after the party if they wished - Q*bert and his friends never had anything that nice in their own games - and instead took to his living room fireplace with Vanellope, Felix, and Tamora.

The latter two, clad in ugly Christmas sweaters, sprawled out next to each other on Ralph's comfy, beat-up couch. Vanellope curled up just inside Ralph's flannel shirt, her head resting on the soft, green sweater material on the layer beneath it. She munched away on a sugar cookie she'd snatched from the dessert table earlier.

"Kid, c'mon, you're getting crumbs all over me."

She grabbed the front of the shirt's opening and flapped the pieces of cookie out onto the floor.

"There! Now they'll just blend in with the rest of your mess," she replied with a cheeky smile.

Ralph groaned and leaned back in his easy chair. He'd clean up later. Right now he didn't feel like moving.

"Well, another year, another Christmas Eve, another holiday party that's not over 'til Big Gene gets plastered." Tamora turned in Ralph's direction. "So how about that feast, Wreck-It? Never seen so many pies in one place."

"Oh man, I must've had a slice of each flavor. Apple, cherry, blueberry, pumpkin, boysenberry, Key lime, lemon meringue..." He counted them off on his blocky fingers.

"Mary really outdid herself again! I don't know where she finds the energy, but she's always plenty ready to party, even after all that baking. Mario and Luigi brought that special bread-- oh, what does ol' Jumpman call it again, Tammy? 'Pontoons'?"

"It's 'Panettone', sweetums."

"Ah, that's right," he replied sheepishly. Vanellope stifled a fit of squeaky laughter.

"That stew Bowser and Zangief put together was great with the latkes. I'll have to ask 'em for the recipe," Ralph mused.

"We'll have leftovers for weeks," Tamora added.

"Yeah, if we're lucky. Saitine's probably gonna want me to bring some of our desserts to Bad-Anon next week." Ralph stretched his legs a little closer to the fire and sighed, content. The heat felt wonderful on his bare soles; running around all day helping out with the cooking and prep work had left him with quite sore feet.

"But we get to do it all over again tomorrow after we open the presents! And this time I can bring the other racers over to visit and the Doody soldiers can come eat with us and we can all sing carols and have snowball fights in Sugar Rush and--"

Ralph removed his Santa hat and pulled it over Vanellope, covering her almost entirely.

"Hey Stinkbrain! What's the big idea?" Vanellope scrambled out of the hat.

"Relax, Fartfeathers. We'll worry about that tomorrow." He raised a pointed finger as if making a decree. "Tonight, we relax."

Felix and Tamora were way ahead of him. The sergeant had pulled her husband into her lap and, from what Ralph could see, the two of them were currently preoccupied with nuzzling each other and carrying on a whispered conversation. The heavy meal and cozy warmth of the room were conducive to sleepy, amorous displays like this.

For a long moment, the four of them remained in quiet togetherness, enjoying each other's company. The gently crackling fire provided the room's only light, tinting everything and everyone in a warm hue. The folded designs, gold trim, and glitter on the cards Ralph had received caught flickers of firelight and created patterns of color and shadows on the windowsills and tables where they were displayed. Soft Christmas music could be heard floating through the peaceful night from Q*bert's after-party in the penthouse.

"Still...I'm glad we do this, even if it's crazy." Vanellope murmured. "I mean, i-it feels good to celebrate just having each other." She looked around at the three adults.

Ralph put a hand on Vanellope's back, holding her closer. Tamora and Felix smiled at each other and shared a brief kiss before turning back towards the candy racer.

"I get it. You gotta break the daily grind sometimes, appreciate the folks who make it all worthwhile. Let the walls come down and bring everyone in." With a tired grin, Tamora leaned over and ruffled Vanellope's hair. "'Course you know it's gonna be utter madness with so many people in one place, gallivanting around like headless chickens, but you look back and you're glad you did it."

Vanellope giggled at the gesture. "Thanks, Sarge."

"Anytime."

"If we didn't get around to celebratin' once in a while...gosh, everything would just blend together into the past, Vanny. I can't imagine having 30 years go by without makin' any time for special memories..." Felix paused a moment and his eyes went wide. "Oh I'm sorry, brother, I didn't mean to--"

Ralph chuckled. "Felix, I told ya, don't sweat it. That's in the past. You've done more than enough to fix it already."

Felix hesitated, then relaxed. "Thank you, Ralph."

The wrecker smiled and exchanged a light fistbump with his handyman friend. Ralph hoped he'd always keep this appreciation for his new circumstances - his home, his inclusion in festivities, and most importantly, his family. The multitude of greeting cards, gifts, the very living room he was sitting in, surrounded by people he loved, who returned his feelings - all of this steadily reassured Ralph that he'd never let himself take his new life for granted.

He turned to the little president.

"Are we all lucky or what, kid?" he half-whispered with his trademark gap-toothed grin.

"Mmhmm..." Vanellope trailed off sleepily.

"Go ahead and rest. This bed of yours isn't goin' anywhere 'til tomorrow morning."

"Okay...thensss...thanks Ralphie," she mumbled as she drifted off to sleep.

He smiled softly. "Sweet dreams, kid."

Tamora and Felix bid the little racer good night as well.

"Hey, you want the two of us to clear out? You've gotta be exhausted, Wreck-It."

"Nah, Sarge, it's fine. I'm not gonna kick out family, 'specially tonight." He gently reclined his chair - careful not to wake Vanellope - and settled in, closing his eyes.

"Oh all right, if you insist," Tamora replied in mock annoyance, a light chuckle giving her away. "See you in the morning, Ralph. Good night, shortstack."

"Sleep tight, honeybadger. G'night Ralph." Felix tucked his head under his wife's chin and embraced her in a full-body hug, planting a kiss on her collarbone. Tamora lay down on her back and pulled her oversized sweater over him, holding them together in the fluffy garment.

"'Night, guys."

As he descended into a deep sleep, Ralph savored this moment of peace sandwiched between two celebrations. All the party-planning in the whole arcade couldn't tire him out enough to dampen his enjoyment of this time of year. As long as he had the president, handyman, and sergeant, he had everything.


End file.
